


He Doesn't Know What It Means (But I'd Run My Fingers Through Your Hair)

by 60r3d0m



Series: Season 12 Coda Collection [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesia, Amnesiac Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel in the Bunker, Dean is Deathly Afraid of Squirrels, Episode: s12e10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets, Episode: s12e11 Regarding Dean, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Intimate Phone Calls, Love Confessions, M/M, Memory Loss, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Season/Series 12, Sincere Dean, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60r3d0m/pseuds/60r3d0m
Summary: “I wish I knew what you looked like,” D-Dean says and he’s interrupting the voice on phone. The man’s in the middle of explaining something—something about him becoming human (isn’t he human already?), something about an asshat named Dean who threw him out onto the streets, something about why Castiel’s always afraid, always wary not to stay too long even though he wishes that he could.But Dean doesn’t know what it means.The man’s voice is quiet, quiet a lot, but he says, “There’s a family picture in Sam’s phone.”It takes him a while, a lot of Cas explaining to him who Sam is (he forgot again), a lot of explaining that yes, his name’s Dean and that he’s not Sam. A lot of explaining, a lot of whispered things that are gentle and make Dean feel good.But then he finally sees the picture.





	

When he wakes up, his head’s feeling kind of funny and he doesn’t really know where he is. There’s a faint memory then, just for a second—a flash of red, bouncy curls and matching lipstick—a whisper of _you’ll be safe here, in the meanwhile_ , and the name _Sam_ floating in his head.

He doesn’t know what it means.

He’s in a car, alone, in the middle of the freaking woods, and it’s kind of foggy out—getting kind of scary. He spots a letter then, pinned to the window and, “Your brother’s been kidnapped by a witch,” he mumbles while he reads the note, and, “Found your stupid car and left you here.”

He doesn’t know what it means.

There’s another sign, a big capitalized command— _STAY_ —and hell, as if he’s going to do that, when it’s dark and night’s here and…he doesn’t know where he is?

He doesn’t know what it means.

He’s about to bolt, about to ram open the car door and run but then he lets out a yelp, because there’s something _vibrating_ in his pocket. He pulls it out, a small, black box that confuses him for a second before he remembers _phone_.

He knows what that does.

There are big letters on it, too, kind of like _STAY_ , and he wonders if it’s another command, if that’s what the letters on the phone screen mean because they say _CAS_.

He doesn’t know why but he finds his fingers moving, pressing the answer button, and he’s holding up the phone to his ear, and he says, “Hi.”

The voice on the other end stays quiet.

 

 

 

 

_They’re sitting in the bunker, the three of them and Dean knows that he should’ve stopped drinking ages ago but he keeps chugging another beer down, mixes it up with whiskey sometimes and Sam’s glaring at him—You should know better, Sam’s look says. You’re not twenty-one._

_But Dean takes another swing. Swallows._

_He’s going to need as much liquid courage as he can get._

_He’s been meaning to say it for ages, these damn words, and he doesn’t know why he needs to say them now, even with Sam in the same freaking room, but the words are stuck in his throat and they’re getting uncomfortable—they’ve been down there for too long._

_He puts his beer down, swallows, swallows, swallows—braves a look at Cas then, stolen, and damn it, I need you, I need you, I need you._

_It’s what he wants to say._

_He swallows one more time, but this time his mouth’s moving, and he’s going to speak because he saw Ishim beat up Cas today and he’s terrified something like it will happen again._

_He makes a move to get up—he doesn’t know why—except Cas beats him to the punch and why is he getting up, Dean thinks. Where is Cas going?_

_“I need to go,” Cas says. Right on cue._

_And then there’s a sick feeling in his stomach, a bad taste in his mouth, and damn it, he’s had enough, he’s had enough damn good-byes._

_“Where are you going?” he says and “Where the hell are you going now?”_

_He doesn’t mean for it to be an outburst. He doesn’t even know he shouted._

_But then he hears his voice echoing in the bunker library and Sam and Cas are watching him and Cas is flinching._

 

 

 

 

The voice on the other end won’t talk to him.

But he can hear it breathing.

“Hi,” he says again.

Still nothing.

When he remembers the flashing letters on the screen, “Cas?” he tries.

The voice on the other end takes a deep, shuddering breath.

 

 

 

 

_Everything’s falling apart, Dean thinks. Everything._

_But now that he’s started going, he can’t seem to stop._

_“Damn it, Cas,” he’s saying, and he’s a bit unsteady on his feet and too much to drink—he knows—he’s had too much._

_It didn’t make him courageous._

_“Where are you going?” he says again and he can’t help himself. “Where the hell do you keep going?”_

_Why do you keep leaving me?_

_But he doesn’t say that._

 

 

 

 

It’s a man on the other end—he knows that. The man’s breathing heavily, as if he’s fighting himself, as if he wants to say something but he won’t.

(But he does).

The man speaks, a voice a low rumble, deep, quiet, sincere.

(And hurt).

Hearing it makes his own stomach twist into knots and he doesn’t even know why.

(But he doesn’t know a lot of things lately).

He doesn’t know what it means.

“Why do you have Sam’s phone?” the voice says softly and Sam says, “I think my name is Sam.”

It’s the only name he can remember.

But he’s not Sam.

Because the voice tells him, “Your name is Dean.”

“Have you resorted to mocking me?” the voice asks, and the voice is bitter and the voice is sad.

“I didn’t know I was Dean,” Dean says and the man’s voice hitches on the other end of the line. 

 

 

 

 

_Dean’s waiting for a damn answer, and Sam’s getting up slowly from his chair, and his hands are raised, as if Dean’s a wild animal, as if Dean’s got a gun._

_“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam says and damn it, Dean’s not okay._

_Dean huffs, runs a hand over his face, turns and looks at Cas, and keeps looking, and keeps looking, and, “Why do you always leave?” he says. “Why can’t you ever stay put?”_

 

 

 

 

“I didn’t know I was Dean,” he repeats and he clenches his fist really hard, as if that’ll stop him from forgetting things, but he doesn’t know if he’s forgetting things or if he’s just really stupid and—where is he?

The voice on the other end comes out really wretched, as if maybe the man might cry, and the man—C-Cas—says, “Dean, please stop.”

“Stop what?” he says and now he’s really confused.

The man on the other end cuts on him.

Dea—De—Sam sits there staring at the empty phone screen.

Please help me, he texts the man. I can’t remember who I am.

But I think I might be Sam.

He doesn’t know what it means.

 

 

 

 

_"You’ve been here three hours, man,” Dean says and his voice is hoarse and maybe breaking and it’s humiliating. “W-Why do you always leave?”_

_Sam’s moving out of the corner of Dean’s eye, moving really slowly, hesitantly, and then Sam’s gone and maybe this is a private conversation and that’s something Sam knows._

_(But Dean didn’t)._

 

 

 

 

He’s lost track of time. He sits in the car and stares out the window in a stupor, distracted by a squirrel that’s been dashing up and down the tree, and maybe it’s been ten minutes or twenty or forty or eighty…or two seconds.

But then the little black box in his hand starts buzzing.

He yelps—he doesn’t know what the thing is—but he’s kind of scared out of his goddamn mind and he’s trying to get the car door open, trying to figure out why it won’t open, and the word _lock_ floats around in his head but he doesn’t know what it means—where is he?

When the black box won’t stop buzzing, he touches the lit screen with his finger, tentative, pushes on random buttons and then suddenly, there’s a _voice_ coming out of it.

“Dean?” the voice says and the voice is so low, so deep, and Dean’s distracted because he’s fascinated.

“You have pretty music,” he tells the voice and the voice falters. “Wish I could see you,” he adds on, wistful, and then his eyes focus on a darting thing with a bushy tail scampering up and down a tree and he tells the voice that he’s scared.

“Dean, where are you?”

 

 

 

 

_Why are you always gone, Dean wants to say, when I need you?_

_But he doesn’t say that._

_Cas says, “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”_

_“Why don’t you just tell me,” Dean says and there’s bile rising up in his throat, “that you hate it here.”_

_With me._

 

 

 

 

The voice on the phone asks him a lot of questions and it’s okay, he thinks, because he likes hearing the man’s voice, ’cept he can’t seem to answer any of the questions.

“I think my name’s Sam,” Sam supplies helpfully, and the man makes a frustrated sound and says, “No, you’re _Dean_.”

“Are you Sam then?”

 

 

 

 

_“Why are you here, huh?” Dean asks and his hands are curled into fists and god, god, he’s so—it wasn’t supposed to be this way. “Damn it, Cas—does it kill you to stay? Why are you here if you just wanna go.”_

_“I’ll go,” Cas says. “I’m gone.”_

_When he leaves, Dean aches so hard._

_But it only confirms what Dean’s been dreading all this time—it makes it the truth._

_Cas doesn’t want him._

 

 

 

 

“Cas-tee-elle.” Dean tries the name out but his tongue feels really twisted. “And I’m Dean.”

“Yes.” The man—Cas-tee-elle—his voice is soft when he says yes. He’s more patient than Sa—but Dean’s not sure what he’s thinking of.

He doesn’t know what it means.

“Can I just call you Cas?” Dean says.

“Y—” the man says. “Y-yes.”

“Awesome.”

 

 

 

 

_He was drunk but that doesn’t make it right. He calls Cas, again and again, leaves apologies in his voicemail, desperate texts in his inbox, but Cas doesn’t answer._

_Maybe it’s Dean who’s overstayed his welcome._

_Lastly he prays on his knees but it’s not something that he’s done. Not for a long time._

_He’s not sure if he’s heard._

 

 

 

 

I can sense your longing, the man on the other end tells him—Cast—Cas tells him.

Don’t be afraid. I’ll find you.

“Hurry,” Dean says. “Everything’s so dark.”

 

 

 

 

_It’s Sam who tries to break the silence. It’s always Sam, always meddling, always trying to get Dean to do the right thing._

_But Dean ignores him. Dean tries to focus on the damn distraction case while he spends his free minutes making covert calls to Cas, and pick up, pick up, pick up._

_Cas doesn’t._

_Cas doesn’t so Dean goes to a bar, gets drunk, hits on girls half his age, drinks more, drinks more._

_When he sees the mechanical bull, he makes a beeline to Larry._

_He doesn’t know what it means._

 

 

 

 

The voice on the other end is soothing. He’s telling Dean a story, about them and their history. Dean curls up in the backseat of the Impala, puts the phone close to his ear and closes his eyes and listens.

He’s not sure where he is.

He doesn’t know what it means.

But he feels grounded.

 

 

 

 

 _Dean wonders why he always smiles when he’s in the most pain_.

 

 

 

 

“I wish I knew what you looked like,” D-Dean says and he’s interrupting the voice on the phone. The man’s in the middle of explaining something—something about him becoming human (isn’t he human already?), something about an asshat named Dean who threw him out onto the streets, something about why Castiel’s always afraid, always wary not to stay too long even though he wishes that he could.

But Dean doesn’t know what it means.

The man’s voice is quiet, quiet a lot, but he says, “There’s a family picture in Sam’s phone.”

It takes him a while, a lot of Cas explaining to him who Sam is (he forgot again), a lot of explaining that yes, his name’s Dean and he’s not Sam. A lot of explaining, a lot of whispered things that are gentle and make Dean feel good

But then he finally sees the picture.

 

 

 

 

_He calls Cas one last time—one time before he gives in to the pretty waitress who won’t stop batting her eyelashes and looking in his direction._

_Cas doesn’t answer._

 

 

 

 

De—De—Sam?—no—De—he doesn’t know why, not at all, but when he looks at the man’s picture, his breath catches in his throat and his stomach feels funny, as if this is a crisis, all of this, just looking at the picture of the man in the trench coat, and—and now he wants to see the man, more desperately than before.

“You’re…you’re so hot!” he tells the man, finally manages it, and then it’s not just the picture that feels hot anymore—it’s his face and he doesn’t know what it means.

The voice on the other end doesn’t answer.

When the pause gets too long, he gets scared.

He doesn’t know what it means.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey—hey, don’t leave me okay? I don’t like it when you leave.”

It takes a second—a long, long second—but the man promises him, “Okay. I won’t leave, Dean.”

 

 

 

 

_It’s in hot pursuit of a witch when Dean feels the phone vibrate in his pocket._

_It’s Sam, of course it’s going to be Sam, but maybe he’s got too much hope because he keeps running after the witch, through the woods, over gnarled branches that want to make him trip, but he still pulls out the phone._

_It’s Cas._

_A text._

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t know why but he keeps forgetting things faster. At least that’s what Cas makes it out like, and he sounds terrified and Dean doesn’t like that because it makes Dean afraid, too.

“Sam’s not answering his spares,” Cas says and he sounds worried. He’s been driving, he says. He’s coming to get Dean because Dean wants him close really bad and the man says that he can sense that. “Dean—if you could just go outside the car for a bit—just check to see if Sam’s not near—injured—it—”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean says and he looks out the window with paranoia, sure that the freaky thing with the bushy tail will come back any second. “I’m—I’m gonna die, C-Cas, if I have to go out there—there’s this thing—monster—I’ll kill mysel—”

There’s a screeching sound then, over the phone, and maybe C-Cas’ driving is really bad, Dean thinks, because it looks like C—C—the man just lost control of the wheel.

“ _Dean_ ,” the man says urgently, a little hysterically. “Dean—I’m coming. I’ll be there. Don’t…don’t hurt yourself.”

“Okay,” Dean whispers and he screws his eyes shut, holds the phone closer to his mouth so the man can hear him better. “But I want a hug when you get here.”

I’m scared, Ca—

I want you to hold me.

 

 

 

 

 

_Dean’s heart skips a beat when he reads the text:_

_I leave because I fear that if I stay too long…that you’ll tell me to go._

_Dean’s fingers fumble with the keyboard, and he’s still running after the witch, still wielding a gun in one hand while doing finger gymnastics with the other._

_God, Cas, you stupid son of a bitch, he wants to say and his fingers are moving, but they’re not fast enough to match up with his thoughts._

_God, Cas, I need you._

_God, Cas, I want you._

_God, Cas, you stupid son of a bitch, don’t go. Ever._

_But the witch gets the upper hand on him and the only thing he types is Go— before he trips and the phone goes flying out of his hand._

_He pulls it towards him—the screen’s cracked yet it’s still working—but his fingers graze the touch screen and he accidentally presses send._

_I leave because I fear that if I stay too long…that you’ll tell me to go, Cas sent him, and in response, Dean sends him Go._

_When he brings a shaking hand to grasp at the phone again, to explain to Cas that it’s just a typo, goddamn it, the light goes out._

_The screen’s dead._

_He feels like he’s dying._

_But he gets up. Pockets the phone._

_He’ll get the witch._

_Then he’ll go to the ends of the earth if he has to. Anything. Everything. He’ll get Cas._

_A minute later, there’s a flash of purple light and then he forgets it._

 

 

 

 

 

The man has a method and it soothes Dean.

He tells Dean a lot. He tells him that he needs Dean, that he wants him. He tells him that yes, he’ll hug Dean, if that’s what Dean wants—he’ll wrap his arms so tight and Dean’s breath will come out ragged, and Dean’ll ask the man if he can have a kiss, too. The man will sound like he’s fighting himself, like maybe he’s choking, but eventually he’ll say Y-yes, Dean. Yes, you can have that, in a broken voice, and then he’ll say, “Don’t hurt yourself. Don’t forget that. Don’t hurt yourself.”

I’ll be there soon.

Hearing him worry makes Dean feel safe. It makes him feel needed.

“You have pretty hair,” Dean tells him, when he opens up the picture of the man—Cas—for the he-doesn’t-even-know-how-many time, because he keeps forgetting what Cas looks like. “If you were here, Cas, I’d run my fingers through your hair.”

Dean hears the man swallow.

“Hell, I’d hit that,” Dean tells him brightly and Dean hears that swallow again, on the other end, before he hears the man’s voice tell him gently, “You don’t really believe that.”

But Dean insists. Dean believes it. So Dean lets him know.

“I’d run my fingers through your hair,” Dean says again. “I’d give you a kiss on the corner of your mouth. I’d kiss your cheek. I’d run my fingers through your hair.”

 

 

 

 

There’s a sign that keeps popping up on Dean’s little black box.

It tells him that his battery’s low.

“I’d run my fingers through your hair,” Dean tells Cas.

 

 

 

 

There’s something weird going on in Dean’s head. It makes him confused. Sometimes he’ll see the monster running up the tree and he’ll breathe quick, feel panicked, and Cas’ll say, “Dean—I’m here. Dean, don’t hurt yourself.”

But then the fear goes away.

The voice on the phone is nice, Dean knows, but now he gets distracted. He climbs up into the driver’s seat again, cranes his neck to watch the moving monster with fascination.

He wants to go touch it.

“Dean—Dean! Are you still there?”

“Don’t worry, stranger,” Dean mumbles. “I’d run my fingers through your hair.”

 

 

 

 

Sometimes now, Dean forgets to breathe.

He tells the man that and the man is losing his mind, Dean thinks.

The man tells him again and again, to keep breathing, to keep talking, to keep wanting, wanting the man, so Dean does.

But there are long silences now. Dean forgets sometimes how to talk, too.

“I—I don’t understand why I have to breathe,” he tells the man, just when his little black box dies. Dean presses buttons but it won’t work anymore.

He doesn’t know what it means.

 

 

 

 

 _STAY_ , the sign tells him and Dean thinks no—he’s going to go find the little thing with the bushy tail. He hasn’t seen it in a while.

Somehow, he finds himself fiddling with the trunk.

He sees a grenade launcher and doesn’t like the sign that says _NO._

That’s when he remembers who Sam is.

“Witches,” he says angrily.

He doesn’t know what it means.

 

 

 

 

It’s sunny out, noon, and he’s been sitting on the motel bed, listening to Sam make calls, to their mom, to Cas.

“Yeah, it’s fine now,” Sam explains. “Don’t worry, Mom.”

When Sam calls Cas, he tells Cas, “Everything’s back to normal.”

Everything’s the same.  

“I was on my way, Sam,” Dean hears Cas say. Cas’ voice is steady. But Dean still hears the little pause. “I…I’ll go back now.”

Tell him to come here, Dean says.

 

 

 

 

He's the motel room alone when Cas opens the door.

Cas hesitates.

He doesn't come in.

 

 

 

 

Dean pulls him in. Dean takes him by the wrist and drags him to the bed and then they're sitting there. Together.

Where does he even begin?

 

 

 

 

He kisses Cas. On the corner of Cas' mouth. He kisses him and Cas jolts back in surprise; he wasn't expecting this.

"I thought that you'd forgotten," Cas says and Dean says no.

"I thought that you'd pretend to forget," Cas says and Dean says no. He kisses Cas' cheek.

Everything's slow then. Everything's slow. He remembers every detail. He doesn't forget.

"I want you to stay," he says. "I wanna run my fingers through your hair."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it! Thank you very much for reading and of course, comments and kudos are always appreciated if you've got the time. Other than that, if you'd like, you can visit me on Tumblr [here](http://60r3d0m.tumblr.com) :)


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